Novels by Atty. Catherine S. Parino

The detective’s finger hovers over the tablet. The hallway outside the interrogation room is so quiet I can hear the faint hum of the ceiling lights. Marcus exhales slowly beside me. “…someone unexpected?” The detective nods. “Yes.” Adrian’s voice is calm, steady. “Play it.” The video resumes. The conference room flickers back onto the screen. Margaret Lawson stands across from my past self, her composure sharp as glass. Victor Salazar leans casually against the table, watching the two of us like the entire confrontation is entertainment. The tension between them is already breaking. Victor has said too much. Margaret knows it. And he knows she knows. Marcus mutters quietly. “This is where things get ugly.” In the video, Margaret turns toward Victor. “You’re finished here.” Victor smiles. “Oh?” Margaret’s eyes are cold. “You’ve outlived your usefulness.” Victor laughs softly. “That’s rich coming from you.” My past self watches both of them carefully now. The room feels u

The interrogation room is silent when the detective resumes the video. My pulse hasn’t slowed since Victor’s last words. You won’t remember this conversation tomorrow. Marcus folds his arms beside me, his usual sarcasm edged with unease. “…I’m beginning to dislike Victor even more.” The detective taps the screen. “This is the final part of the recording.” Adrian nods once. “Play it.” The video continues. Margaret Lawson stands rigid beside the table now. Victor Salazar watches her with thinly veiled amusement. And my past self looks between them with growing anger. “You’re both insane,” I say in the recording. Victor shrugs casually. “That’s subjective.” Margaret’s patience is gone now. “Victor,” she snaps quietly. But he only smiles. Because he knows something she doesn’t. And the camera captures the exact moment she realizes it. Victor glances toward the door. Then says something unexpected. “Your little plan at Reyes Holdings is impressive.” Margaret’s eyes narrow. “W

The detective’s words settle heavily in the hallway. This is the moment the crash was arranged. Marcus slowly straightens, his usual sarcasm edged with unease. “…well,” he mutters, “this might be the most important video evidence in corporate crime history.” Adrian doesn’t respond. His eyes remain fixed on the tablet in the detective’s hands. “Play it,” he says calmly. The detective nods. The video continues. The conference room appears again on the screen. Margaret Lawson stands near the table. Victor Salazar leans against the wall beside her. And my past self stands directly across from them. The tension between the three of us is sharp, suffocating. Marcus leans closer. “Okay, everyone. Let’s watch the villain planning session.” In the video, Margaret glances toward Victor. “You should leave.” Victor raises an eyebrow. “You just invited me to stay.” Margaret smiles faintly. “And now I’m asking you to go.” Victor studies her carefully. “You don’t trust me.” Margaret’s an

The hallway outside the interrogation room becomes completely still. Marcus slowly lifts his head. “…Margaret was there?” The detective nods. “Yes.” Adrian’s expression turns colder. “Play it.” The detective taps the screen again. The video resumes. On the tablet, the scene in the conference room continues. Victor Salazar is still standing near the table. I’m facing him. The tension between us is sharp enough to feel even through the screen. Then— The door behind Victor opens. My past self turns immediately. And a woman walks into the room. Margaret Lawson. Marcus exhales slowly. “…well. That escalated quickly.” In the video, Margaret closes the door behind her with quiet precision. Her expression is calm. Almost amused. Victor glances at her briefly. Not surprised. Not confused. Which means one thing. He knew she was coming. My stomach twists. In the recording, I look at Margaret. “What are you doing here?” Margaret tilts her head slightly. “That’s

The hallway falls silent. “You threatening Victor Salazar.” The detective’s words echo in my ears like a verdict. Marcus straightens immediately, his usual sarcasm edged with curiosity. “…okay,” he says slowly, “now I really want to see that video.” Adrian’s eyes narrow slightly. “Play it.” The detective nods and taps the tablet screen. The small display lights up. A dim conference room appears, grainy but clear enough. The timestamp in the corner reads: March 14 — 11:42 PM. My breath catches. “That’s the night of the crash.” Marcus leans closer. “Let’s see what Past Alessa was doing.” The video stabilizes. A table. Two chairs. Victor Salazar sitting on one side. Then the door opens. And I walk into the room. My chest tightens. Seeing myself like this feels strange. Familiar. But distant. Marcus whistles softly. “You look extremely angry.” He’s not wrong. In the recording, my expression is cold. Focused. Controlled. Victor smirks slightly in the video. “You came.” My

The hallway outside the interrogation room feels suddenly smaller. Like the walls are closing in. Marcus straightens beside me, clearly sensing the shift. “…you exposed him?” he asks Adrian carefully. Adrian nods once. “Yes.” Marcus rubs his forehead. “Okay. That sounds like the origin story of a very bad villain.” My chest feels tight. “I don’t remember any of that.” Adrian’s gaze softens slightly. “I know.” The words are gentle. Not accusing. Not impatient. Just patient. Marcus glances between us. “So let’s reconstruct the disaster.” Adrian leans against the wall, folding his arms again. “Five years ago, Reyes Holdings hosted an international design competition.” A faint flicker moves through my mind. Spotlights. A large conference hall. Architectural models displayed on white platforms. Adrian continues. “You submitted a proposal for a sustainable coastal development project.” My pulse skips. I whisper before I can stop myself. “The Pacific Eco District.” Both men loo

The Betrothal Lantern Rite had concluded, but the night was still a long way to go. As the guests moved toward the central amphitheater, the manor announced the Alpha Dominion Rite — one of the oldest and most primal traditions of the solstice. Unlike the gentle, patient Beta courtship rituals of open vows and protective circles, the Alpha Dominion Rite celebrated raw power, possession, and dominance. Alphas would publicly display strength through ritual combat displays, deep-throated growls of claim, and symbolic marking of chosen partners under the watching eyes of the Bound Spirits. It was a visceral reminder of the manor’s own origin: born from a dominant spirit claiming a mortal in a pact of eternal submission. Elara stood at the edge of the amphitheater, her silver robe stained and clinging. Kaelen’s thick cum continued to leak slowly from her abused pussy, a warm, degrading reminder of how roughly he had used her. She felt dirty. Violated. Not loved — just owned. King Vortig

The Lantern Chain Procession had slowed into the Betrothal Lantern Rite — an ancient Beta courtship tradition woven into the solstice for generations. In the open snowfield at the end of the procession, participants formed smaller circles. Each Beta suitor lit a special lantern with a personal vow of gentle protection, patience, and honest love, then offered it to the woman he courted. The lanterns were released together, their silver threads linking destinies in a soft, respectful bond — unlike the raw, dominant claims of Alpha pacts. Elara stood in the center of one such circle, Lord Rowan’s arm still securely around her waist. Lord Theo and Lord Elias stood respectfully nearby, their lanterns glowing warmly. The Beta courtship rituals had deep roots: centuries ago, during the early days of the manor, Beta lords created this tradition as a counter to the often violent Alpha claims. It emphasized consent, emotional safety, slow courtship, public protection, and vows of gentle stewa

The Lantern Chain Procession continued its slow, glowing path through the frost-covered gardens, the silver threads between lanterns humming softly with magic. Snow fell in gentle flurries, catching the lantern light like tiny stars. Elara walked in the center of her protective circle, Lord Rowan’s arm securely around her waist, his steady warmth the only thing keeping her upright. Her body felt heavy, used, and violated. Kaelen’s thick cum still leaked slowly from her swollen, abused pussy, warm and sticky down her inner thighs beneath the silver robe. Every step made the creamy mess squelch obscenely inside her, a constant filthy reminder of how roughly he had claimed her behind the hedge — no tenderness, no love, only raw possession and jealousy. She felt dirty. Broken. Sexually abused. Tears stung her eyes. This wasn’t love. It was addiction. Danger. A secret that was destroying her friendship with Lyra and her own soul. She wondered, with a fresh wave of nausea, if she was al

The Lantern Chain Procession continued its slow, glowing path through the snow-laden gardens. Elara walked in silence, her body no longer just aching — it felt heavy, used, and dirty. Kaelen’s latest load still leaked slowly from her swollen, abused pussy, warm and sticky down her thighs, a constant reminder of how roughly he had taken her behind the hedge. For the first time, the sensation didn’t spark shameful arousal. It made her stomach twist with nausea. She felt… abused. Not cherished. Not loved. Just claimed. Used. A secret hole for Kaelen’s lust while he hid in shadows and growled “mine.” No tenderness. No promises beyond the next rough fuck. No future. Only guilt, risk, and the growing fracture with Lyra — the one person who had loved her purely since childhood. Tears stung her eyes. Lord Rowan stayed glued to her side, his arm securely around her waist, warm and steady. His touch was gentle. Protective. Respectful. He looked at her like she was precious, not a filthy s

The Lantern Chain Procession had stretched long into the night, the linked lanterns glowing like a river of stars winding through the snow-covered gardens. The silver threads between them shimmered with magic, binding hopes and secrets as guests walked slowly in the cold air. Elara remained firmly cocooned in the center of her new protective circle. Lord Rowan’s strong but gentle arm stayed wrapped around her waist, his body a warm, steady shield against the winter chill and whatever unseen force kept pulling her away. Lord Theo and Lord Elias flanked them closely, their kind presences forming a living barrier of affection and concern. Rowan’s voice was soft and devoted as he leaned close. “I mean every word, Elara,” he murmured, hazel eyes full of sincere love. “I am falling deeper for you with every passing hour. Let me protect you. Let me follow you through every remaining night of this solstice. You don’t have to carry whatever burden this is alone.” Lyra walked pressed tightl

The Lantern Chain Procession wound through the moonlit gardens — a long, snaking line of guests holding glowing lanterns linked by enchanted silver threads. Each lantern carried a whispered hope or fear, and the chains were said to bind destinies together for the final stretch of the solstice. The air was cold and crisp, filled with soft choral singing and the crunch of snow underfoot. Elara walked in the middle of the line, her body burning with shame and need. Kaelen’s thick cum from the Mirror alcove still leaked steadily from her swollen pussy, soaking into the hem of her silver robe and making her inner thighs slick and sticky. Every step caused an obscene little squelch that made her clit throb. Lord Rowan stayed glued to her side, his arm wrapped protectively around her waist. Lord Theo and Lord Elias flanked them closely, forming a living shield of gentle Beta suitors. Rowan’s voice was soft and devoted against her ear. “I won’t let you slip away again. Whatever is frighten